The Heart Wants What The Heart Wants
by The World Wanders
Summary: A different take on Extinction. Carlos saved a young woman named Victoria. Alice met a brazen soldier, Leon Kennedy. But when the two pairs meet, Alice and Carlos cannot deny what their hearts want: each other.
1. Prologue

**A/N:** don't own, don't sue, etc.

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**Victoria. **

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We're born alone, we live alone, we die alone.

**- Orson Welles**

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_**Six Months In The Past...**_

_A loud chorus of moans and the horrible clicking sounds of broken bodies caught my ears. In response, my heart began to race, and I reached for my long sword, lying dormant on the ground next to me. Last night I had chosen to sleep in the JayJays' store, hiding out in one of the changing rooms, surrounded by pillows and blankets I had pinched from the other stores._

_My breathing, now hitched, I forced to turn steady. Each breath, individual, needed to be quiet and calm. And yet, I was not saved. The undead seem to have an ability to sense uninfected flesh. I felt the blood drain from my face as I realised they had entered the store._

_I broke through the door of the changing room, faced by the first greyed face. His flesh was beginning to peel, and he was hallowed, thin. He looked starving, and he advanced on me accordingly, many more behind him._

_Years had taught me speed. My fight-or-flight instinct kicked in, and I tightened my grip on the sword, sweeping it through the air to disembody the walking corpse. He dropped like a stone. I crouched, and put each of my individual guns into the holsters strapped to my jeans. The next undead sauntered towards me, eyes filled with greedy hunger. I wrenched myself upright, and swiftly side-stepped her, running for my life around the small crowd of infected._

_Grotesque arms reached for me as I ducked among the clothes racks, racing for the front of the store, and I reached it, only to feel vice like grip grab my shoulder from behind. I swung out blindly, sinking my sword deep into the brain of the infected. The grip on my shoulder lessoned. I tried to wrench my sword free, but it was stuck, giving no more than slight movements and horrible sucking sounds as I wrenched. Even more undead crawled towards me. I released my grip on the hilt of the sword, turning to run._

Damn,_ I thought. _That's my favourite weapon.

_I raced through the mall, my boots slapping painfully against the sand-ridden floors. This being the only reminder of the destruction outside of my makeshift home. I forced my legs to go faster, faster, towards the old medieval store. There would be more swords there, I had seen them._

_One more corner. I turned to glance behind me. I horde of undead were still far behind, but not far enough. I made it to the store, and looked around fervently, searching for the nearest, lightest looking sword. I found one, and wrenched it from the wall. It was impressively. Deceptively light. I unsheathed the sword, and could see how the sunlight from outside streamed onto it, making it gleam. Sharp, light, lithe and deadly. Perfect._

_I turned and fled the shop, at a loss for where to go next. I had no vehicle, nowhere to go. I would soon run out of energy for running. I could not fight all of them, it was impossible. I had next to no hope. I had to find somewhere to get to a place where they could not reach me. Somewhere I would still have food to survive._

The supermarket._ The idea hit me strong and hard. After all, I had the keys. If I could just get there fast enough, I could bolt all the doors. I would be safe._

_This decision took me. I ran for the escalator – no longer functioning, but served well enough as stairs to the upper levels of the mall. My calves screamed in protest, but I kept running, kept running. The undead trailed me, seeming to gain with every passing stride. I pushed faster._

_I took another sharp right, and salvation found me. The supermarket was straight ahead. And still fully stocked – the only entrance to this place had been blocked for years until I had found the keys. I ran for my haven, hearing the brainless moans of hunger from behind me._

_I pushed myself through the partially opened doors, panting heavily, and pushed hard against doors to close them. _Please, please, please,_ I begged silently._

_The doors groaned in protest, stubborn from misuse. Through the crack in the door, I could see the horde of undead approaching. I pushed with all my strength, every part of my body screaming in agonising protest, but still I persisted. I had a desperate need to survive._

_Finally, the doors slid shut. I reached into the depths of the pockets of my cargo pants and drew out the keys. From beyond the doors, I could hear the persistent moans of the undead. I raised my shaking hand to the lock, and inserted the key, sealing the door for good as the first bodies crashed against it. I breathed a sigh of relief. I knew the doors would hold against the mindless zombies._

_All at once, exhaustion struck me. I collapsed on the floor, and closed my eyes._

_But my reprieve was short-lived. Strong hands gripped my shoulders, and I wrenched my eyes open, a scream erupting from my throat. My hand, still curled around the hilt of my newly found sword, twitched, and I swept it upwards, towards the monsters neck, on instinct. _Foolish, foolish girl. Should've checked this place was clear.

_The figure looming above me released his steady grip on my shoulders, and ducked. I blanched. The undead never had enough conscious thought for self-protection. Just the mindless desire to feed._

"_Careful!" Came a deep, gruff voice._

_My heart skipped a beat, and I crawled to my feet._

"_Hello?" I asked tentatively, reaching out to the figure in the shadows._

_A rough laugh echoed through the silence. "Yes, I think that's a better greeting than trying to decapitate me, thank you very much."_

_Human._

"_You're human," I stated, dumfounded._

_The man stepped out from the darkness, and smiled. He had short, dark hair, and deep chocolate eyes. Ruggedly handsome, and dressed entirely in black – in some sort of military gear. He had rich, sun soaked skin, and strong muscles beneath his clothes. My heart skipped another beat._

"_Yes, I'm human," he spoke again, in that slightly accented voice._

_"Impossible," I whispered. "I didn't think there was anybody left."_

_The man reached up and ran a calloused hand through his thick, dark hair. "More than you think. I'm part of a convoy. Claire Redfield's convoy. We're here for provisions, but after that we're getting on the road again." He chuckled. "Well, not road, but you get the idea." I nodded. "You know," he continued, "we didn't think there'd be anybody here." He pondered this for a moment. "Join us," he whispered suddenly._

_The undead rattled against the door. I looked up at him, towering over me, and smiled feebly. "I think I might just have to take you up on that," I murmured._


	2. Collide ::Alice::

**A/N:** Just taking the quick opportunity to say that I've never played the games – I'm gaming illiterate. I can, however, watch movies - hence this fan fiction. I don't know what the games are like, and frankly I don't care. This story is for my own personal satisfaction, I love AlicexCarlos, and there simply isn't enough material out there to keep me satisfied for long enough.

This story follows the events of Resident Evil: Extinction. I have taken selfish liberties, like the inclusion of characters that have died in the actual films (but you'll have to read to find out who) and the inclusion of an OC, the charming Victoria Somers. Chapters are written from either her point of view, Alice's or Jill's (girls points of view are easier). I'll be sticking close-ish to the script at most times. It might also be useful to know that sections in _italics_ are flashbacks, much like the lovely prologue prior. *grins* Or, sometimes, like in this chapter, _italics _is used for narrating. I'm sure you'll figure it out. There will be some lovely moments from RE: Apocalypse in the flashbacks. Because some of those moments are vital to this story. Events shall be altered, once again, for selfish reasons.

**Disclaimer;** we all know I don't own the characters from Resident Evil, such as the lovely Alice, the beautiful Jill and the charming Carlos. All recognizable dialogue is the property of... whoever. Original characters are mine, so please ask me before you use them (though I doubt you'll want to).

_**I would love a Beta. Let me know?**_

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**Alice.**

_How long can we hold on?_

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_

Monsters are real... They live inside us, and sometimes, they win.

**- Stephen King**

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_The Umbrella Corporation thought that they'd contained the infection. But they were wrong. Raccoon city was just the beginning. Within weeks, the T-Virus had consumed The United States. Within months, the world. The virus didn't just wipe out human life - lakes and rivers dried up, forests became deserts and whole continents were reduced to nothing more than barren wastelands. Slowly but surely, the earth began to wither and die. What few survivors there were learned to keep on the move. We avoided major cities. If we stopped any place for too long _they_ would be drawn to us. Only a few at first, but then more and more - a never ending army of undead. For those of us left, staying on the road seemed the only way of staying alive._

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_KLKB. _As usual, there was no way of telling if the call for help had been one of real concern, but the women over the radio had sounded so _desperate_, so convincing. I paused only momentarily outside the building. KLKB. The place was probably is shambles before the end of the world, but now it looked in complete disrepair. The doors had been destroyed, as if something had broken through. _Not entirely unlikely_. But they'd been broadcasting mere moments ago; perhaps they'd been able to subdue their attackers? There was nothing I could do if the seven in need of attention were infected, merely a kind shot to the forehead. Better now, before they become lifeless and hungry.

I still felt it my duty to check it out. I'd been a part of the reason this disaster had even ravaged our planet - I should have found a way to keep the virus contained, stop them from re-entering the hive. But I was incompetent. I would do my best to aid the last dregs of humanity. Even if the survivors inside KLKB weren't to be survivors for much longer, I was still compelled to go inside.

My boots crunched on broken glass. The sweltering heat of the desert sun disappeared almost instantly once I stepped through the shattered glass doors. The air was cool, but held the lingering scent of blood and sweat.

But I could not detect the scent of infection.

Blood painted the walls around me as I walked the hall, my leather soles slapping against the linoleum floors. _Burn them._ Not an intelligent suggestion. Have you ever seen a flaming corpse? One that can still walk, still hungers for your flesh? What's worse than a mindless zombie eating you alive? It being on fire whilst it does so. But the message still sent shiver down my spine. _Blood, blood and more blood. Messages painted in blood. So much blood._

Was the transmission simply a recording of past worries? Was I already too late? The scent of decay was strong enough to make me think so, but then, that might have been here long before the frightened tenants it held.

A glass wall. Frosted, I couldn't see the other side.

And then a whimper. So slight I might not have heard it. I raised my gun to shoulder height, optimal for tilting for headshots. Another sob. This one louder than the first. I slowly made my way around the glass, maintaining a demure demeanour, keeping my heart beating steady. My gun remained raised. I was ready. More soft cries. A chair came into view, a figure hunched onto it. I could only see her back, but she was the source of the cries, I knew it. I stepped forward, gently. One foot after another after another. Tentative. She could be infected, even turned by now. I'd seen similar behaviour before. Assuming a little girl was crying at Angela's school had gotten Terri killed.

Her head slowly turned as I reached her, her complexion a natural, healthy human colour. She stared down the barrel of my gun, pointed at her head.

"My baby," she intoned. I noticed small bundle in her arms. Her voice was ridden with grief and fear. I looked at her, bemused. Why would she choose to have a child in a world such as this? I did not remove my gun. "Please?" She asked. "Please help my baby."

I slowly lowered my gun at the pleading look on her face. I probably wouldn't be able to do much for the child, I was never very good with children. But I'd sworn to myself I would help whoever asked for my help. I reholstered my gun as the women held out the bundle to me. I was as gentle as I could, ever tender. I was almost afraid to pull back the cover hiding the baby's face. It had made no sound. Could I really look at the body of a deceased child?

I drew back the blanket. Shock hit me like a wave. _A fucking doll?_

Then it hit me.

Trap.

Guns cocked around me, five separate shotguns and rifles now pointed at my head. I dropped the bundle carelessly.

"You bitch. You dropped my baby." Her raspy laugh shook me with anger. _I hate it when this happens. I should stop answering these distress calls in the first place._

* * *

_The door rattled._

_I pulled out of the embrace with Angela - it would have felt so unnatural to me anyway, comforting a child, if not for the ties we had - and raised the shotgun tirelessly. The man that charged through seemed similarly precautionary; whilst my shotgun was aimed at his chest, his assault rifle was centred on mine. He wore the dark vest and cargo pants of the other man, the friend of Jill's. Nicholai. Nicholai Ginovaef._

_More fucking Umbrella guys. I narrowed my eyes at him, but couldn't help the smirk at the compromising position we were in. He's good, I'll give him that. _

_"Don't shoot him," came Nicholai's rich Russian voice from the wall against which he was leant. Apparently he'd taken out two of the dogs whilst Jill and Angie had been in the kitchen; and he'd been the one to knock Jill out of the way during the blast. Heroic. I'd thanked him on her behalf, since Valentine is ridiculously stubborn. "He's my commanding officer," Nicholai explained. Even as he said it, the soldier whose assault rifle was trained on me shook his head._

_"Nicholai," he greeted. I understood the smile on his face - one of a superior officer who was humble and did not like to be addressed so. Stupid, charming Umbrella operative._

_LJ - Lloyd Jefferson Wayne, I recalled gratefully (Jill had informed me of her company) - burst through the door at that moment, vouching for him too. His words were much less eloquent, 'he made a deal with Doctor Doom, same as you.' Wouldn't have been my choice of words but it got the message across. I released the hilt of the shotgun, catching it around the midriff whilst eyeing the newcomer suspiciously._

_"How many of you guys are there?" Jill asked, her eyes floating back to Nicholai. I smothered a smirk; for two people who had just met, they sure seemed to like each other._

_The soldier's smile faltered, "It's just us now." _So he's lost his team too.

_With that, a brief silence fell, broken only when the new guy's frame was racked with a cough, causing him to double over._

God, no. _My eyes flickered over to Angie, desperately clutching her backpack containing the antivirus._

_"When were you bitten?" I demanded. Three shocked faces turned to him; Jill, LJ and Angie. Nicholai, it seemed, was already aware of his sickness. They were from the same squadron, perhaps he'd been there when it happened. The man's eyes flickered up to meet mine. He knew what this meant. Being bitten means being infected. He could tell I have a zero-tolerance for infection - Jill knew it too, when I tried to kill her Peyton. LJ, Angie and Nicholai could obviously sense my ruthlessness, too._

_"Three hours ago." He didn't bother denying it, just stared me straight in the eyes, waiting calmly for death. Relief flooded through me when I realised he had plenty of time before the infection went beyond a cure - particularly with such a strong character as himself. Like any virus, strong healthy people are better at fighting it. This guy's a fighter._

_I raised the shotgun, pointing it at the ceiling. He eyed me apprehensively as I did so. "It's your lucky day," I smiled, resting the barrel of the gun against my shoulder._

_With that, I walked straight past him, sneaking a small glance at the back of his vest._

OLIVERA. _Of the U.B.C.S - Umbrella Biohazard Countermeasure Squad. Umbrella's finest soldiers; the best of the best._

_Yeah, I just bet he is._

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I hate zombie Doberman's. Dogs used to be my favourite pet before the end of the world; it never struck me how dangerous they really were until they became flesh-ravenous and rotting.

There was more obnoxious laughter coming from the woman above me; the bitch who'd tricked me here. I stared at the dog's I'd effectively put on leash, who were lashing out at me, pulling on the electrical cords. The metal bar to which they were attached began to pull loose whilst I struggled for a way out of my shittastic situation. And then I realised it; there'd be a fleeting moment from when the metal broke free to when the plaster floor it was holding up collapsed - which it would, with the weight of our audience on it. When that happened, I'd have a split second to race up the plaster, the dogs on my trail. They'd soon enough become preoccupied with the assholes who'd thrown me in here. Two birds, one stone, right?

It happened. I strained my legs to push faster, faster. I could feel the hot, flesh-ridden breath of the Doberman behind me as I raced up the makeshift ramp. The dogs missed me by a hair's breadth, striking who I assumed to be Eddie's mother straight in the face. Her screams echoed around the room, quickly joined by more as the other dogs found victims of their own.

That's right boys, a buffet. Help yourselves, all you can eat. They deserve it.

These people didn't deserve the dignity of my preserving their corpses. The dogs were welcome to ravage them as I walked away. Why waste bullets, after all? I threw the lock down on the door, preventing the dogs from following me. But they had enough of a meal to attend to anyway.

What a fucking waste of my time.

"You know, you should really be more careful."

That's another thing that I hate; my tendency to relax so soon after it seems the danger has been dealt with. I need to, with careful practice and immeasurable discipline, teach myself never to relax. It is never safe, not in this world, and I can't afford to be complacent when the next danger could be right around the corner.

Or, you know, right behind me.

The ominous click of a hammer being pushed into place resounded behind me, and then the muzzle placed right against the base of my skull. When whoever was standing behind me chose to pull the trigger of what felt like a Hi-Power Browning, my brains would be blown against the wall.

And the third thing I hate: realizing that sometimes, humans can get the better of me.

I raised my hands and placed them on the back of my head.

_I really should be more careful._

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**A/N:** (yeah, I know another one). This was a little shorter than I intended. I've been working on it for ages. Did you like it? It will be a while yet until Carlos and Alice meet up.

The quote underneath the character perception for the chapter (eg "**Alice**" is from the song which the chapter is titled. It's just a thing I do, quotes. Can't really help it.) This one's chapter is _How long can we hold on?_ – this is supposed to pertain to humanity in general, in the situation they are in. The song is _**Collide**_ by _**Skillet**_. Listen to it if you want to.

Next chapter shall be Jill's.

**_REVIEW?_**


	3. Awake and Alive ::Jill::

**A/N; **I watched Resident Evil: Afterlife. And though there will never be a pair as wonderful as AliceCarlos to grace the world ever again, Wentworth Miller is _sexy._ He has this voice which is deep and smoky. I think he makes a wonderful Chris - sufficiely kick-ass and offers a light humour to the movie, in a way. Even though he is very attractive in his own way, and hardcore, and Alice is once again human, I'm still not for AliceChris. Because I feel like that'd be me betraying Carlos. Spitting on his (lack of a) grave. I really enjoyed the movie (apart from the fact that Carlos isn't in it) and I'm so glad they will be doing a fifth movie, based on the fact that this was their greatest grossing RE film so far, which, according to Paul W. S. Anderson, is going to include Leon Scott Kenneddy. If they use Jensen Ackles, I will die of pleasure (because I'm a huge Dean!girl, for the whole Supernatural deal). They're also saying that they're going to ask around the fans more, get some input on what they would like to see.

I would like to see Carlos brought back to life. Not that that's ever going to happen.

Anyway, here's the next part for you.

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**Jill.**

_I'm at war with the world._

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The only way to make a man trustworthy is to trust him.

**- Henry L. Stimson**

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Safe doesn't exist anymore.

Alice was right. She was always right. _Fucking Umbrella._ Raccoon City _was_ just the beginning. I was granted a front seat ticket to watch the world go to hell. In Raccoon, thousands of people died overnight, but when the T-Virus hit the rest of the United States... it spread like wildfire. There was no way to contain it, no way to stop it. I learned to stop making friends. We all did. Making friends meant you had more people to lose.

Peyton. Terri. Angie. _Leon._

"Jill?"

My name sounds so much more interesting when said with a rich russian accent. I turned to face Nicholai, and couldn't help a smile. The guy never relaxed. For some reason, he always seemed to stand in that same no-nonsense military position. Police officers, and S.T.A.R.S, for that matter, were always so much more informal. We weren't trained like Umbrella trained their soldiers; S.T.A.R.S are good, but the UBCS? They were better. Not that I'd ever admit that to his face.

I could still kick Nicholai's ass in a fight. Sometimes.

"It's clear, Nicholai. No sign of infectants. You got the perimeter?"

"Secure," he said with a small smile. The _perimeter_ was simply the outside of the shack that we'd found. Sleeping in vehicles was usually the way to go when we were in a world such as this one, but it can get awfully uncomfortable. Nicholai hadn't seemed at all surprised when I'd demanded we spend one night indoors. So we'd found a small building - probably a budget lake house of some sort, not that you could tell from the stretches of desert all around us - and decided to crash here. There'd been no infectants for miles around, but it was still important to be precautionary.

And there was a _bed_. Not that it was much of a bed, mind you, but a well-worn mattress is much, much better than the hard leather seats of Nicholai's stupid army truck. Best motor vehicles my ass. We are _so_ taking this mattress with us when we leave.

As much as I had actually longed to lie down on something that wasn't stiff and may actually hold some degree of comfort, I wasn't tired. Nicholai was. He had a tendancy to sometimes deprive himself of sleep, listening to the radio for news of other survivors, checking maps for any small towns we could hit. He was always working. It seemed ingrained into him.

"You sleep, I'll take the first watch." He always offers that. Always beating me to the punch. Trying to be the gentleman, I suppose. Nevertheless, I shook my head.

"No, Nicholai. You've hardly slept at all in the past few days." Being indoors rather than inside a stuffy, cramped truck was luxury enough anyway. Not that I minded being close to Nicholai; I've known him for five years, and the open desert tends to get cold at night. "You get some sleep, I'll wake you in a few hours."

Sometimes I just wanted to _breathe._

He looked like he was about to argue some more, but caught my gaze and nodded. I'd remind him to thank me later, when his eyes were free of the dark purple shadows he'd grown in the past seventy-two hours. I heard as his weight sank onto the bed, his breathing painfully even.

I'll never understand how guys do that.

Five years. Umbrella really fucked us over. All of us. I can't believe we've been running for five years. I can't believe that it only took a few months for the T-Virus to ravage the entire planet. I can't believe it took mere weeks to wipe out the states. I can't believe the Raccoon incident was just one night. I can't believe that I'd been separated from the people who had saved my life. I can't believe we were never open with one another. I can't believe Alice _fucking ran away_.

* * *

_"Those things are in here," Angela whispered, tugging at my hand._

_At a quick glance, I could see three - no, four - undead kitchen workers ambling around. Her hand was small compared to my own, but she had a vice grip for a child who seemed so calm, with such an easy, getle, calm demeanour. "It's okay honey," I murmured reassuringly. I couldn't help but feel responsible for the young girl hidden behind me. "They're slow, we can run 'round them." It did bother me, in all earnesty, to have found a child here amongst the ruins of a school; and bothered me more still that I had to bring her closer to some of the monsters._

_"No. Not them," came her voice again; so mature, so deterring. Her words sent a cold blast down my spine as I turned to her, confused and concerned. "Them."_

_My eyes trailed the length of her extended arm, directing my own eyes to where hers were glued. _Shit._ Dogs. Feeding on a mangled corpse. I could hear the sickly sound of slapping, slippery meat on wet jaw, the heavy breathing of a zombie enjoying a god meal. "Get back," I ordered Angie, pressing her behind a desk with one arm and raising my gun with the other. _

_The dog pulled its bloody head from the twisted meat on the floor to focus on a new, fresher meal: us. Lipless skin peeled back to reveal bloodied teeth and a low growl rippled through the room. Then the dog was charging us. I shot once, twice, feeling the reeling power of the handgun pushing back after every shot. It didn't fall; instead knocked into me, crashing me against one of the desks and causing the gun - our only protection - to fly out of my grasp. _Shit. Shit, shit, shit._ I have seconds to pull myself upright before the dog charged again. Weaponless, I reached for a chair, placing it protectively in front of me. If nothing else, I could wrestle it away until someone else arrived. Unlikely though that may be._

I'm going to die,_ I thought as the dog leapt into the air, bloody jaws gaping._

_A round of shots rang through the room, ripping through the dog, meaty bits of zombified flesh flying through the air before it crashed to the floor, dead. Shocked, I spun to face the source of the gun fire, and blanched when I was faced by a man in Umbrella military garb. My hands tightened around the legs of the chair - it might be useful to bash the man's head in, particularly if he's here under some sick Umbrella orders. Of course, a chair wouldn't do me much good when it came to this man; impossibly good aim esnured I'd be dead before I got the chance to use it. His assault rifle was pointed directly at me, the end smoking. His finger clenched around the trigger, another shot peircing the room. I waited for the pain, then relaised I wasn't the targe when a mass fell behind me._

_Zombie. He'd just saved my life a second time in the space of about ten seconds. Terrific aim. With sharp, cutting movements, he stepped to the side, rifle raised, aimed and shot at the next zombie with painful acurracy and minimal time. Within seconds, he'd cleared the whole room, and all that was the pitiful whining of the not-so-dead undead dog on the floor. The agent lowered the rifle, striding across the room towards the fallen creature, putting the safety on his rifle, slinging it over his shoulder, and pulling out a small handgn much like my own. He stood over the dog, raised the gun, and took a bullet to its head in one swift movement. "Stay," he ordered the dog. I stifled a laugh. It was funny, in the circumstances._

_He turned to me now, a slight smile forming on his lips. I had already discarded the chair, deciding he wasn't much of a threat to Angela or I. "Thought you might need the help," he murmured with a shrug._

_I was loathe to thank him, especially since I knew I should - I'd have been dead now, if not for him. So instead I focused on the obvious negativity. "You work for Umbrella."_

_"Used to." His voice was heavy with a thick russian accent; very alluring. He had captivating green eyes and short golden hair with a masculine face. " 'Til they left us for dead in this place." He looked around objectively, then turned back to me, the smile now more pronounced. "Now, I consider myself... freelance." I couldn't fight the smile of my own growing. "Sergeant Nicholai Ginovaef, at your servi-" He was interrupted introducing himself when he was knocked to the ground by another zombie Doberman. He and the beast fell to the floor, him tackling the creature to keep it off of himself. He was unable to reach for his weapon._

_"Come on!" Angela screamed as she ran from the room._

_"Wait, Angie-" I called out, turning back to the Umbrella soldier. We couldn't leave Nicholai here - not after he'd so valiantly saved us._

_"Save the girl!" He ordered me, still tackling the dog. "I've got this bitch."_

_I hesitated for no more than a single instance before I turned and fled, after Angela. Ferocious barks echoed from behind me and prayed that Nicholai would hold his own. Angela wasn't far ahead, I'd caught her hand by the time we passed through the doors into the kitchen. "From now on, stay right beside me," I ordered. I refused to let any harm come to the young girl._

_Ours eyes searched for another exit from the kitchens, only to see the fire escape blocked by a refirgerator that had been knocked over. "It's blocked," Angela murmured hopelessly. Her small, angelic face turned to me for guidance. "What do we do now?" She whispered._

I have no fucking clue.

_I spotted a meat cleaver lying on the floor, just out of reach. Immediately I crouched, bringing Angela down with me. "Wait here," I ordered. "Eyes." I pointed to emphasize for her to keep look out. "Okay?" I crept along the passage, keeping low, then fell to my stomach, reaching for the cleaver. A small gasp from Angie had me turn to see a zombie crawing acrossthe floo towards me. On instinct, I grabbed her neck, silently twisting so that the spinal cord snapped, rekilling the reanimated. I threw a gentle, comforting smile to Angela before turning back to the cleaver._

_Only to be faced by another Doberman._

_I pulled back, my eyes rapidly skimming the room for weapons. _Gas._ I pulled Angela along with me, turning up gas handles as we ran, the dogs on our tail. At the doors, I struck a match, throwing it behind me._

_It went out before it hit the ground. _Fuck._ I kept pulling Angela along, only to see none other than Alice, flicking the fag of a cigarette in our direction, smoke trailing from her lips. The dogs were milliseconds behind us as we dived through he open doors._

_From the corner of my eye, I saw Alice grab Angela, pulling a fire blanket around the two as the explosion shook the room, fire spewing from between the doors, right before astrong weight crashed into me, knocking me out of the path of destruction. I crashed to the floor, the weight of someone on top of me._

_Nicholai. Again. That's three times, now._

_He stood in one swift movement, offering a hand to help me up, which I begrudgingly accepted._

_"Thank you," a calm Angela whispered to Alice. Nicholai and I watched the exchange curiously. Alice cocked her head ever so slightly, strawberry blonde locks falling across her face._

_"You two know each other?" I demanded._

_"She's infected," Alice muttered, pointing to Angela. _What?_ "She's infected on a massive level."_

_"How could you know that?" Nicholai's hands drifted closer to his weapons as I spoke._

_"Because she is, too," Angie answered demurely._

_"You're infected?"_ She was going to kill Peyton for it, even though she's been infected this whole time?_ "When were you going to tell us that?" Alice ignored me, pulling a chair towards her and sitting in front of Angela._

_"Let me see," she demanded._

_"No." Nicholai and I exchanged bemused glances._

_"You know I'm not going to hurt you. Let me see." Alice's voice was surprisingly gentle when dealing with the young girl; so much less cold and calculated than before. _

_Angie extended her arm, Alice pushing back the sleeve of her school jumper to reveal a garden of pink scars. They looked like injection marks. Then, Alice reached for her backpack from which she__ extracated a lunchbox. And inside-_

_"It's the antivirus. The cure to the T-virus."_

_"There's a cure?" Once again, my demands went unaswered. Nicholai stiffened beside me._

_"Where did you get this?" And once again, Alice's focus was directed at the young girl._

_"My daddy. My daddy made it for me." Alice exchanged a loaded glance at us, the adults in the room. I'm sure our looks of shock rivaled her own. "He's sick," Angela continued. "And someday, I'll get sick, too. He just wanted to stop all that. When I was little, I had to walk on crutches. They said I would never get better, just worse. He found a way to make me stronger."_

_"The T-virus," Alice murured._

_"Then, they took the invention away from him. He's not a bad man, he didn't mean for any of this."_

_"It's okay," Alice whispered, pulling the young girl into a comforting embrace._

_Once again, Nicholai and I exchnged a loaded glance, right before someone else burst through the cafeteria door and we all jumped in our skin. A man dressed similarly to Nicholai, and with the same, swift, trained action, strode into the room, his rifle aimed directly at Alice's chest._

_Great. More fucking Umbrella guys._

_

* * *

_

"This is Claire Redfield's convoy, broadcasting for any survivors. Is there anyone ailve out there?"

Nicholai's steady hand dialled down the volume of the radio, both of us staring at the equipment distrustfully. "What do you think?" He asked me after a moment of silence.

"I think it'd be nice to be around more - _human_ - people. But then, it could be a trap. We've answered a few. Did you triangulate their positioning based on the coordinates given?"

Nicholai nodded, pointing to the map already laid out on the table before us. "Less than five miles from us, and moving east."

"Redfield..." I pondered. "That name seems painfully familiar."

"You might know them?"

"Maybe. And there's also the possibility of others we know - I mean, after Alice left, Carlos would've hardly wanted to led his own convoy; he could very well have relinquished the position offered to this... Claire person. And wherever Carlos is, LJ's surely not far away."

"That's a pretty big 'if'," he noticed.

"Worth a shot?"

Nicholai turned back to the map, scrutinizing it for a few seconds. "Could be nice to be a part of a convoy even if our friends aren't there," he concluded.

"Alright, it's settled. We'll go check it out," I murmured. "And Nick?" I added as he began packing up the equipment.

"Yeah?"

"We're taking that mattress. It'll easily fit in the back of the trunk."

Nicholai looked at me with an 'are you crazy' slash 'typical, women' stare before shrugging and rolling up the map.

_I win again._

_

* * *

_

**A/N:** OMFG. On wikipedia, under he page for the character Alice, there is an information bar about the character. It has Spence Parks listed under 'Spouse', and also adressed as 'fake husband'. And then, beneath that, **significant other: Carlos Olivera.** I kid you not. I went into an insane bejeebus about it. I was so happy, so excited. Seriously, go check it out; .org/wiki/Alice_(Resident_Evil). I nearly died of perpetual bliss.

Longer chapter! Yay! Did you like it? I thought it was a little boring; I'm waiting for Alice and Carlos to get back together...

Chapter title credit: **Awake and Alive,** which, as last time, is by **Skillet.** 'Cause I like them.

I've done the _hard work_ so now the **least you can do** is _**REVIEW?**_


	4. Together Again ::Victoria::

**A/N:** Hey guys! Been busy. Hope you enjoy the next part of the story for you.

**Disclaimer:** Once again, I own nothing - yardeyardeyah.

* * *

**Victoria.**

_I've found a world where love and dreams and darkness all collide._

* * *

The best way to love is to love like you've never been hurt.

**- Unknown.**

* * *

Endless stretches of desert. It was getting painful to look at. Was there nothing else left in the world? The rolling hills of sand, the cloudless sky, the hot, beating sun - all of them almost made me wish I'd stayed in my mall. Almost. I knew it was an unrealistic thought, I'd be dead by now. But the world just seemed so _lifeless_, it was painful to look at. So instead, I wrenched my gaze from the trucks front window to stare at the man by my side.

Firm, calloused hands gripped the steering wheel. His forearms were tensed, the burnt ochre skin stretched over war-hardened muscles. His arms were lined with weapon holsters - knives, guns, stranger weapons I haven't the name for. A short sleeved black t-shirt, covered by his old, worn out bullet proof black vest, complete with faded umbrella logo. And all of this, of course, covers more defined muscle in his chest and shoulders. There was a light smattering of stubble across an almost-square jaw. Short, dark, spiky hair, more rich ochre skin and deep, drowning chocolate eyes completed the look.

"Carlos?"

His eyes were set straight ahead, eyebrows furrowed deeply, focusing on god-knows-what in this barren wasteland. Still he drove, foot never leaving the pedal through bump after bump, determindly following Otto's school bus, never wavering. Not that there was a road to follow. The more I stared, the more I realised he wasn't really _seeing_ the road. He was focusing on something else entirely. A memory, perhaps. It wouldn't be the first time.

"Carlos," I repeated, vying for his attention.

He turned to look at me, a smile tugging the corners ofhis lips. His hands remained firmly on the wheel, his eyes constantly flickering back to the road, ensuring that our truck never ventured too close to the bus. "Yeah?" I struggled for words while I gazed at him, watching his eyes trace my long legs to the dashboard where they rested and then back to the - for want of a better word - road. "You alright?" His face was etched with concern. I considered making a bad joke, but things now days were too serious, it was not the time tobe making jokes.

"I'm fine. Where were you at?"

He grinned. "What do you mean? I'm right here."

I shook my head, a smile of my own etched onto my face. Carlos was always so _literal_. I could never tell if it were a constant joke or if he was socially inept in this way - maybe due to his upbringing, or simply because marines and trained killers like himself just don't have the capability to understand generalisations. Far fetched, at best. "That's not what I meant. It looked like you were focusing really hard on something. What were you thinking about?"

He turned his gaze ahead, the grin slipping from his face. "Nothing. The tank's running on empty," he pointed out.

I looked at the gas reading. He was right. But then, it seemed that nowadays we were always running on empty. Plus, I'd leanred to notice when Carlos was lying. And I always knew it would have been for my own benefit. I'd been told that Carlos was at Racoon City, at the beginning of it all. That he'd seen worse things than most others had to cope with - whisperings of worse monsters than the walking dead. That he'd watched all his team - men that had _counted_ on him - die. LJ said that the events at Racoon and what happened afterwards had broken him. Carlos never spoke about these things. He just threw on his beautiful smile and hid all the pain I knew was deep down inside.

LJ had told me, though. How six of them had survived Racoon City - Carlos, LJ, one of Carlos' men - Nicholai, a STARS officer - Jill, an Umbrella operative, much like Carlos - Alice, and a young girl - Angela Ashford. I'd heard vague stories about how Angela had died, how the woman, Alice, had selfishly fled. How Jill and Nicholai got separated from Carlos and LJ.

It was the stories about Alice that had bothered me the most, though. How she'd been the one to save them all from Racoon, how Umbrella had experimented on her, bringing her back from the brink of death. And finally, how she had run away. How she could be so selfish, so cowardly. When LJ had spoken of her, I'd detected awe and reverance in his voice - but also anger, disappointment and hate. Whatever she'd done was bad.

Carlos never spoke of her at all.

"Carlos?" I repeated.

He once again turned to look at me, the smile I longed for no more than a ghostly echo.

"Are you going to be alright?"

I often wondered what he thought about. LJ had hinted at a depth of despar to Carlos. I hadn't believed it at the time, he just seemed like such a happy person. That was before I realised he was simply better at hiding it. LJ had said his true sadness was Alice's fault, for what she'd done. Maybe that's what he thought about. Maybe that's what made him so sombre. I hope not.

"Yeah, of course." And there was that smile.

Both were lies.

* * *

_"Just be careful," I insisted, loathe to relinquish my arms from their all-too-comfortable position - tangled around his neck, as it were. Carlos' arms were around my waist, I was pressed firmly against his vest. It was pissing me off. I hated that barrier there, but I knew why he wore it. It angered me that Carlos had more to protect himself against than just the undead. It angered me that he still percieved Umbrella as a viable threat._

_It angered me that he was right._

_His arms unlocked around me, and I supressed a sigh as I released him. He laughed gently - a rich, bubbling sound. "It's routine, Victoria. Don't worry about it. Just scouting for more supplies."_

_"I know that," I scolded, placing my hands defiantly on my hips. "I still want you to be safe."_

_He pressed his lips gently to my forehead, which, as always, made me flush with warmth. "I'll be fine. Make sure LJ doesn't get into any trouble." And with that, he was gone. I knew he'd be back, later tonight when the desert cold seeped deep into the bones of every last survivor in our little piss poor family we call a convoy. He'd be back, in no more than a few hours. It was just a routine scout. I knew the drill. I _hated_ the drill. I'd begged to go with him, but he'd coerced me into staying with his ridiculous smooth talking._

_"Dude, you look like a kicked dog - it's fucking hilarious!"_

_I didn't need to look around to see who was speaking. I threw my head back, looking at the sky. "Thanks a bunch, LJ. And please," I begged, spinning to face him, "stop calling me 'dude'." He was sitting on top of the bus, watching the sun redden as it reached the far horizon._

_"Still don't get why you went for Carlos 'stead of me," he grinned. "How could you pass up all o' this?" He asked, gesturing broadly to himself. I meandered over to the bus, grabbing the rails and swiftly climbing up the ladder Otto and Claire decided to have nailed to the side of the bus. Before the world ended, I'd prided myself on my finesse. All survivors now were fit; though I'd still felt a string above the rest. When I'd met Carlos, it'd originally been a massive hit to my self esteem - he was faster, fitter than any other person I'd ever met. Apparently Umbrella taught him that._

_"Because he was a hundred time more charming than you," I threw at him, a laugh bubbling in my throat. I strode across the top of the bus, and slid down beside LJ, swinging my legs over the side to join his. "Besides, you were already taken," I joked. "Where is Betty, anyway?"_

_"Somewhere, tending to some cuts and bruises." He waved his arm around vaguely as he spoke, firmly clutching the gun. I tried not to cringe. LJ had only accidently fired once. Or... twice. "Josh fell and broke his arm t'day. Little twat," he joked._

_"Josh..." I trailed off, thinking. "Is that the six year old?" LJ nodded in confirmation. "Poor kid," I said absently. It's strange, to think of a child breaking a bone for the first time in a world where much much worse things were practically bound to happen to you at some stage or other._

_"Victoria?" LJ asked hesitantly after a few minutes of silence. The joking had gone from his voice, there was a seriousness there that worried me. LJ had always been a joker - particularly back at the beginning of this all, Carlos had told me - but he'd also discovered a more sombre side to himself. LJ had been forced to realy grow up when the world ended; but I'd preferred the joking, the swearing. Lightheartedness was always more comfortable than facing the grim reality._

_"Yeah?"_

_"Uh, just wanted to thank you." I looked at him, perplexed. He didn't look at me, but I sensed he could feel my dissent, my confusion. He continued accordingly. "Three months ago, if you'd asked me, I'd say Carlos was spiralling down a hole he'd never resurface from. He was so damn silent, all the time. Never smiled, or joked, or nothing. He'd been like that ever since Angie died." I'd heard about Angie - Angela. A sweet, tormented kid. Life's hardly fair. "You've helped. Taken his mind off of things. Thanks for that."_

_"Of course, LJ," I said slowly. There was something else. Something LJ was deliberating, something he didn't know if he should tell me. "LJ, what aren't you telling me?"_

_He sighed, sliding the gun into his pocket. "It wasn't just Angie, though. It was Alice."_

_My stomach dropped. "Alice?"_

_"Man, Umbrella. They fucked her up bad. Carlos always takes things to heart. Alice got us out of Racoon with her abilities. Girl was gorgeous, superhuman and kinda scary." This was the first I'd heard of her; but I'd owed her a lot if she was the one to save Carlos' life. It wasn't the first time I'd heard about Umbrella experimenting on humans. They had no respect for human life. The virus was proof of that. I stayed silent as LJ continued with his story. "She got us onto the helicopter by fighting off heaps of men. Carlos and Jill, they helped too. Both of them were great fighters." I knew of Jill, LJ and Carlos weren't sure if she was still alive - both her and Carlos' friend, Nicholai. "She sacrificed herself for Angie. Died for her. Umbrella fucked her up even more, they took her body, brought her back to life. She split a few weeks after we saved her from them. Carlos really hated that - losing Angie, getting separated from Jill and Nicholai, and then having Alice just ditch like that. Plus, you know, Carlos felt kind of like it was his fault they tortured her like that. He was convinced he should have saved her - just like he tries to save evey last fucking person, even at the cost of his own life."_

_"Yeah, that heroism really gets on my nerves," I joked. But we both knew my heart was in my throat. "I'm normally more for the bad boys, not the heroes."_

_"Shit, and you _didn't_ choose me?" He grinned._

_I shook my head, letting the smile take me. "No, LJ."_

_Because I knew Carlos was the best thing to happen to me since before the world ended._

_

* * *

_

Three months. I'd learned about Alice three months ago - that same amount of time I'd known Carlos _before_ I'd learned about her. I'd given him countless opportunities to talk about it. Led the conversation in that direction hundreds of times. He never spoke about her. Which led to three conclusions:

1) He hates her.

2) He loves her.

3) All of the above.

"Focus, Victoria," Carlos ordered, wrenching me from my reverie. I fixed my gaze on the makeshift target ring he had pinned to the wall, balancing the knife in one hand. Carlos had insisted on trying to teach me the skill of dead aim - but he himself had admitted it was one very few ever mastered. He of course, being one of the very few.

I took a deep breath, holding the knife so that my thumb and forefinger were parallel, as Carlos had instructed. This was supposed to help level the knife when thrown, ensuring it would enter the target in the desired angle, and not smack them with the hilt. Which I'd done enough times to feel sufficiently stupid. I drew my hand back, keeping the line of sight with the target, and threw with the exact amount of power he had demonstrated, to ensure the force did not offset the balance, but was strong enough to a) cover the distance and b) cause enough damage. A loud 'thunk' resounded when the knife struck the target, two inches to the left of where I was supposed to hit.

"You're getting better," Carlos ensured me, wrenching the knife from where it was embedded in the wall. "You got balance and strength right, you're just a little off target."

I sighed, sinking to the floor. "It's no use."

"You're only two inches off," he reminded me, desperate to reverse my defeatist behaviour.

"Yeah, but two inches is enough to miss the forhead completely. Plus, I take ages to aim. It's impratical, Carlos. I'm never going to get it - particularly as you never take time to aim, you can just grab and throw."

"But I'm a natural," he grinned, offering me a hand up. I ignored it, pulling myself to my feet. I folded my arms across my chest when he offered me the knife again. "We'll try again tomorrow," he conceded with a small smile. He slid the knife back into one of its numerous sheets.

"We're supposed to be watching the perimeter, anyway," I pointed out. Funny, since Carlos always took protecting the convoy so seriously.

"We are watching the perimeter," he threw back, with the charming smile plastered all over his face as he gestured to the surveillance equipment by our side. I turned to look at the screen, cocking my head slightly as I looked at the different readings.

"Carlos," I started seriously. He immediately stopped smiling, rushing over to peer over my shoulder at the screen. "What is that?" I asked, indicating at the image from one of the cameras.

He stared at it for a moment, before cursing softly under his breath. "Movement, maybe a hundred yards out. I can't make out what it is in this darkness." He reached for his radio, ready to contact Claire when I interrupted him.

"Carlos, that's a truck!" I blurted out when I realised what we were looking at. Even as I said it, the truck came closer into view, faces barely distinguishable behind the glass. "There's people. Human people. Survivors."

Carlos immediately broke in with the static from his radio. "Claire, it looks like we've got survivors approaching the convoy. Victoria and I are going out to meet them, copy?"

"Copy that, old man. I'll send Jared and Chase over to help."

Without another word, Carlos ripped open the truck door, stepping out into the desert night darkness, with me close on his heels. His han hovered above his gun as he waited, silent, for the vehicle to approach. watched with bated breath as the trucked slowed to a halt in front of us, one of the people inside shining a torch light on us before opening their own doors and stepping out of the army truck to come closer to Carlos and I.

I felt Carlos stiffen beside me as the pair's faces came into view - a man and a woman; the man dressed in military garb who looked distinguishably foreign, and the woman having short, straight brown hair that didn't quite reach her shoulders. A smile broke out across the woman's face, and I turned to Carlos as he began to speak.

"I don't believe it." His posture relaxed, his hand drifting away from his gun. "Jill? Nicholai?"

* * *

**A/N:** Did you guys like that? Sorry if it was a little boring... I did my best! And I really should be studying for exams, so I hope you guys realise just how damn lucky you are!

So, the title credit for this chapter goes to Evanescence - Together Again. Pretty cool lyric there, huh? I'll leave it to you to figure out how it ties in with the chapter. Same idea with the quote. Do you guys enjoy them, or should I can them?

Once again, I've done all the hard work, so the least you guys can do is **_REVIEW._**


	5. Shadowfeet ::Alice::

**A/N:** Hey guys. Missed me? I know it's been a while - a long while. Unfortunately, I've been sick. Surgery sick. And then I went on a geek science camp for two weeks where I met so many people I miss so much my chest hurts constantly. So I guess I'm thinking of them while I write this, and though (as far as I know) none of them, this is dedicated to them. And also to the absurd number of people who reviewed. I love you all, seriously. You're too good to me! It's interesting to hear your take on things, and I'm glad that people seem to mostly like Victoria! Normally, original characters get hated.

So thanks, guys. This is for you. Stay awesome.

* * *

**Alice.**

_I am changing, less and less asleep._

_

* * *

_

The worst lies are the lies we tell ourselves.

**- Richard Bach.**

**

* * *

**

I can't even remember the last time I was forced to lay down my weapons. I wondered if maybe I'd grown weaker - not even Carlos had ever been able to sneak up on me. _Oh, God. Carlos._ Nevertheless, I kicked the guns away from me and replaced my hands on the back of my head. This could easily be one of the most fucking stupid things I've ever done. I was already plotting in my mind the exact movements I would enact when I detected so much as a slight shift in the man's posture behind me.

"Did you send out that mayday as a trap? I heard the screams from inside." His voice was deep and menacing, and so far, he hadn't relaxed his position - probably from military training. Carlos was the same. So was I. But that didn't mean he wouldn't make a mistake.

"The people who sent the mayday are dead. I killed them." I kept my tone even, just as menacing as his.

"Why?"

"They thought I'd make a good meal for the infected Dobermans they were keeping in the basement."

The moment I'd finished speaking, what I'd been waiting for occurred - the man relaxed, the tip of the gun fractionally leaving the base of my neck. Immediately, I spun, swinging my left leg deep, sweeping his feet out from underneath him while I brought my elbow up into his face and caught his Browning as it slipped out of his head.

I'd expected him to fall, what with my genetically enhanced speed and strength, so I was thoroughly impressed to see him still standing, seven feet away, one hand clutched over his now bleeding nose and the other holding a second, newly drawn gun.

Damn, he's good.

"Who are you?" I demanded coolly. There was, of course, no point in asking him why he was here - I'd already inferred he was answering the same plea for help as I had. He's lucky he hadn't beaten me here - a human probably wouldn't have survived down there.

He looked at me for a moment, as if adding up his chances and the harm in answering my question. Then; "Leon S. Kennedy."

_Why does that name sound so familiar?_ "Who are you traveling with?"

"No-one."

"It's not safe out here alone," I warned him. "I suggest you find a convoy of some sort to travel with."

"If it's not safe, then why are _you_ traveling alone?"

"That's none of your business, Kennedy."

The blood from his nose had ceased to flow, and he used his left hand to aid his right, steadying his gun. He looked a mess. "If you're going to hold my own gun at me, I suggest you use it before I kill you to take it back," he warned. I laughed, knowing my reflexes are much better than his, due to all the fucking meddling of Umbrella.

"Are you infected?"

"No."

I threw him his gun across the short distance, watching the shock splay across his face and I bent, retrieving my own weapons from the sand and re-holstering them. "Get out of here." I could tell he was honorable enough not to shoot me if I made no move to attack him, so I prayed fervently that he was also intelligent enough to do what I told him. For his own safety.

He replaced his own firearms, then walked tentatively towards me. "You're an amazing fighter," he complemented.

I inclined my head slowly. "I thought I told you to get out of here."

"You're the only survivor I've seen in a month. I'm not about to walk away from you."

I narrowed my eyes, then turned my back, towards my bike. "If you're staying with me, you look after yourself. When we find a convoy for you, I'll be gone faster than you can blink. Understand?"

* * *

_"So what are you injecting me with?" Once again, the middle-eastern tinge to his voice threw me. I tried immeasurably hard to focus on what I was doing, dreading where his conversation would lead. Mainly, my mutation._

_I granted myself the short reprieve of a near-silent breath before I answered. "The anti-virus."_

_Olivera's dark eyes were still fixed on me as I centered the vial above him arm. His skin seemed strangely dark against my creamy flesh, and so painfully warm. My own central body temperature seemed to have dropped when I was infected with the virus. I swallowed momentarily, and, under his searching gaze, pressed on. "The T-virus reanimates dead cells. Basically, it brings the dead back to life. Or in a living human," __I pressed the lid of the vial, injecting the green fluid straight into his bloodstream, "_it can cause uncontrollable mutation." Like me. My eyes drifted to Angela, and he followed my gaze. "Or it can help her walk again, if the virus is kept in check." I held up the empty vial I'd just used on him. "With this."

_"Angie's infected?"_

_"Yes. The cellular growth is enough to regenerate her, but not enough to cause further mutation." I watched her as I spoke, her small, soft round face weighed with sadness. Too much a burden for one so young to bear._

_And then there's me. Mutations. Luckily, they're not visible or physically scarring like some of the less... desirable experiments I'd had the misfortune of seeing in The Hive. But they'd changed me._

_I was not human, and I hated it._

_"And they infected you with the virus as well?"_

_My jaw hardened. "Yeah." I turned to look at him once again, but his expression caught me off guard. There was no fear, or disgust, only concern._

_For me. A project._

_"But don't worry, I'm not contagious." The smile on his face echoed my own._

_

* * *

_"Alice!"

Rough hands were shaking my shoulders, and I was startled into awareness by the sound of my bike - and Leon's - crashing to the ground from a height I could not determine. They were thoroughly destroyed.

Great. On foot from now.

Leon raised a hand to run through his hair. Short - like Carlos'. _God, will you stop thinking of him? Get a fucking grip._ I hadn't really taken the time to think about it, but I supposed, when I really looked, that Leon was _handsome._ Where Carlos was darkness - with his rich skin and black hair, perfect drowning chocolate eyes - Leon was light. His skin was still much darker than mine, but a smooth golden tone from years in the sun. Carlos' skin was naturally dark - ochre, much, much darker than Leon's. His hair was a light brown, flecked with sun-bleached blonde. His eyes were an almost green, amber-ish color. He was tall - probably six foot two (an inch or so taller than Carlos-_stop thinking about him!_), and broad-shouldered.

"Are you okay?" He seemed breathless - but then, he had just seen his motorbike floating in the air. Luckily for him, I'd decided to spill the beans about my... genetic nature. For his own safety.

Okay, really I was just trying to scare him off. Kudos to him for sticking with me, I guess.

He wouldn't be the first, though.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I muttered.

He stared at me silently for a second, then blurted. "Who's Carlos?"

My heart seemed to jump a beat. "What?"

He crossed his legs, surveying me. "I couldn't wake you. You kept muttering _'Carlos, not Carlos.' _So, who's Carlos?"

"A friend. He got infected. I was able to administer the antivirus in time."

He nodded. "The antivirus. Sure would be nice to have some of that lying around." His fingers traced a gun in his lap. Not just any gun - a sleek rifle, who Leon fondly referred to as his 'baby'.

Men and their machines.

"Yeah."

"So... what happened to this Carlos?"

I pursed my lips, but the concerned look on his face as he regarded me reminded me too strongly of someone else I knew... "I left him, and the others we were with." Leon's eyebrows shot up, and his look changed from concern to disapproval, fast as a whip. "To protect them," I insisted hurriedly.

His next look was a classic. _Yeah right._

"What about you?" I threw back. "Why are you alone?"

"My..." He took a steadying breath. "Someone I cared about a lot, was killed by Umbrella. After a while, it was painful enough that I wanted to suffer alone, and I left."

"I'm sorry," I murmured softly.

He glanced up at me, a slight smile curving his lips. "Thank you."

Maybe this guy isn't so bad after all.

* * *

**A/N: **again. For those of you that haven't guessed, I've chosen to use **Jensen Ackles** as Leon Scott Kennedy. There is simply no other choice, in my opinion. The person he cared about that has been referred to is Ayla Wong. Thought I'd get rid of her altogether to leave this gorgeous man free.

Yummy.

This was absolute shit, and I apologize. Thank you all for the outstanding reviews. You're all amazing, thank you so much.

**elusivemuse:**No, Victoria is not K-Mart. K-Mart will feature in this story. I appreciate your review!

**_REVIEW?_**


	6. All I Need ::Jill::

**A/N:** Once again, I am back. May I simply say to all those of an age below sixteen/seventeen years, that if you've got anything else you can do other than suffer through the last year of high school, DO IT. The stress is fantastic, seriously. There's so much that has to be done and so many committees and responsibilities and parents harassing you about which University to go to. (In America, I think you call them Colleges.) Seriously, though. Only do it if you know you have to and you have the self discipline to survive.

Okay, so I'm overreacting again. But it's really easy to get stressed in your final year at school, and I feel like I might be dying. Exaggeration, but you get it. So here's another chapter for my (surprisingly numerous amount of) awesome subscribers and even awesome-er commenters. Thank you guys a bushel and a peck. (Inside joke. If you've seen Guys and Dolls, you may understand.)

**elusivemuse:** You're totally right and I'm completely wrong. Everyone else, who, like me, is blatantly oblivious, it's Ada Wong, not Ayla Wong. My apologies. Elusive, I'm glad you're a fan of Kennedy! I have never played the game and don't really have the courage to do so, but I love the movies and I too love Jensen Ackles. I coincidentally kidnapped him and hid him in my closet for my own epic amusement. So there you go! Thanks for the comment. **sophia0401:** Thanks you so much. I, too, love it when characters can't stop thinking about each other without realizing. Oh, yes, by the way. These characters pretty much write themselves. Alice was thinking of Carlos the whole time she was away from him in the movie, didn't you know? Oh heavens yes, also. Jensen Ackles as Dean Winchester is quite probably my favorite TV character ever (maybe Ian Somerhalder as Damon Salvatore is close competition, because he's FINE also.) Glad that you like Leon, thank you! That means I'm doing something right! **LithiumReaper:** I'm glad you like the story. A little sad you don't like Victoria, but that's your opinion and you're welcome to it. I too believe Carlos and Alice have to be together, being a huge shipper of Alice/Carlos. But to make this story more dramatic, I had to put some sort of obstacle to them being together. I have lots planned, and Victoria was totally necessary, I swear. I hope you can grow to like her. _You are so right. Jensen is yum. I think we are all in agreement on that!_ I will try to make them a bit longer. Just, as it's only really the beginning, there's little to cover with each character. They'll get longer as the story progresses. **MiraMarie:** Now! Sorry for the wait. **bhernandez02897:** I've updated! I'm so sorry for the wait! I hope you haven't gone all Hamlet on our asses. Once again, bhernandez is right also. It's Ada Wong. My bad. Sorry. Yeah, I'm really sorry about Ayla not being in this, but I can't bring myself to play the games (I'm bad at games, anyway), and I'm a little selfish when it comes to anyone who is played by Jensen Ackles. So... yeah. Ayla isn't going to be in this story. I apologize. I hope that doesn't deter you from reading it! **Hidden Relevance:** Jensen Kennedy? I like. Cool congregation of the names xD and also way better than Leon Ackles, so well done for that too! I've heard so many rumors about him being Kennedy. He was supposed to come in in the fourth movie. I hope he does come in the fifth movie, hopefully he won't be too busy with Supernatural season seven. I love him to pieces, he is such a fantastic actor. **Ellaine7:** Captivating? That's so sweet of you, thanks! I hope the wait hasn't been too drastic, and that this chapter lives up to your expectations.

* * *

**Jill.**

_Give me something I can believe._

* * *

A man can be happy with any woman - as long as he does not love her.

**- Oscar Wilde.**

* * *

Nicholai's driving is so damn practical. Myself, I'd grown up racing dirt bikes with my older brothers, or drifting with reckless abandon in busy streets in our father's ridiculously expensive Ferrari Enzo - zero to sixty miles per hour in just over three seconds. With all the ridiculously illegal things we did, it was a miracle I'd still managed to get into a job where they let me manage a weapon. I'd been told that the _only_ reason, when I was seventeen years old, was because I was talented. But I still indulged in the odd bike race down the main street of town every now and again, coming into work with the odd scratch on my leg from where I'd banked so hard the entire side of me was barely an inch off the tarmac.

That is, before the world ended. Even still, Nicholai drives on that teetering edge between average speed and _just a little slow._ It was practical because it conserved fuel, but it still pissed me off. Of course, being a trained no-nonsense soldier type, even his driving would seem safe. But in a world where safe is a long-forgotten memory, what was a little bit of fuel compared to the feeling of really being alive?

I wonder if Nicholai ever biked. He seemed like the type.

We were about a minute from the triangulated co-ordinates for the convoy when we saw two figures step into the glow of our headlights. The man held his weapon firmly pointed in our direction, his stance incredibly rigid, whilst the woman held hers more loosely in their arms, which immediately indicated to Nicholai and I that they weren't - yet - anything other than human. He immediately eased on the gas, slowing to a halt maybe twenty meters from the pair. Nicholai flicked on his torch and shone it at them. In the light, I could almost make out their faces - there was something strikingly familiar about the height and build of the man, and an even stranger familiarity about the dark mass of his hair. Doubt and hope immediately surged simultaneously through me, and I turned to Nicholai, but he had already slipped from the truck, striding around to my side (no doubt to open my door for me - an action I'd begrudged him for countless times). Needless to say, I slipped out of the truck before he could reach me, ignoring the pertinent look of disapproval on his face. Nicholai is undoubtedly a gentleman. It frustrates me to no end because I'd grown up with four older brothers, and was always determined to show everyone how tough and self-capable I am.

Of course, Nicholai could care less.

Together, we strode towards the pair. The woman I had never seen before, but as we approached, I could see that my former hopes had been correct. Barely five meters from us stood no other than Carlos Olivera himself. The man we hadn't seen in almost a year. And, apart from the bags under his eyes, he hadn't seemed to age a day.

Lucky bastard.

Even as I thought about this, a light smile twisted the corners of my lips, and Carlos' strict posture lessened. "I don't believe it," he muttered. "Jill? Nicholai?"

"The same," I confirmed, as Nicholai reached out to grasp Carlos' extended arm, pulling him into a one-armed hug with all the ease and familiarity of a bond of brotherhood. I'd forgotten, over the past year, how close the pair had been.

"It's good to see you, Carlos," Nicholai's deep voice betrayed no emotion, but I knew how much it meant to him, seeing our old friend once again. I could hear it how heavily his accent lilted his speech.

When Nicholai stepped back, Carlos pulled me into a shocking embrace - one I hadn't expected - that nearly tore the breath right out of me. I'd also managed to forget that as well as his (ridiculously unfair and just about unparalleled, except for perhaps Alice) incredible fighting skills, he was also ludicrously strong.

The girl to his left (prejudiced of me really, to call her a girl simply because I didn't know her - she had to be at least twenty five) cleared her throat quietly with a polite smile, and Carlos, suddenly remembering her existence, introduced us.

She was beautiful - quite so - and this immediately made me judge her as weak. Which wasn't a very accurate sentiment, on my part, as I had thought the same of Alice when I met her. However, this girl seemed to look almost a polar opposite of Alice. Where Alice's skin was creamy (or at least _was_, the last time I saw her), Victoria's was darker. Not nearly as dark as Carlos' olive shade which hinted at his middle eastern parentage, but the more golden tone of a well-tanned white girl. Her hair was much closer to mine in color than Alice's strawberry blonde - a rich chocolate brown that fell in almost-curls to her ribcage, although most of it (save a few locks framing her face) it was currently tied in a ponytail and hence probably a few inches longer. Where Alice was nearly five foot nine, this striking young women was probably closer to five foot five, and that made her an inch or so shorter than I. The only similarity was in the striking color of her eyes. It was a sharp blue, an electric gaze almost as intense as the superhuman I had so revered.

"Jill, Nicholai, this is Victoria. She's one of the survivors of Claire's convoy. She's been with us six months." Something in the way he looked at her made it clear that she hadn't just been with the _convoy_ for six months. I couldn't help it but have my opinion of her drop even further. As much as I was angry at Alice for leaving, it had been very clear that there were unresolved emotions between Carlos and her - probably part of the reason why she fled in the first place. I couldn't imagine Carlos with anyone else. Regardless of whether he wanted to admit this to himself or not. "Victoria, this is Jill and Nicholai, from-"

"Raccoon City," the girl finished with a smile, turning to me and offering her hand - which I took, after a little hesitation. "I've heard all the stories," she assured me.

_I sincerely doubt that._

"Fighter or Civilian?" I asked her, attempting a returning smile. For Carlos' benefit, who, along with Nicholai, was watching our interaction with paused concern and interest. Victoria's eyes flickered to mine, seeing the challenge for what it was and attempting not to falter under my gaze. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Carlos tense, recognizing the challenge too. Nicholai merely smothered a smile and lightly shook his head.

"No one's a Civilian anymore, Jill. If you're a Survivor, it's because you were a Fighter all along." Nicely answered, I had to give it to her, although clearly it meant she wasn't particularly trained in any way, and that made her a Civilian in my book. I released grasp of her hand and drifted back over to Nicholai's side, allowing my hands to dig back into the confines of my dark pockets.

Carlos spoke up. This didn't surprise me, as he was as much defending himself against my accusations as he was defending the girl. "Tori has a background in weaponry."

Needless to say, that caught my attention. "Really? What kind of weaponry?"

Victoria seemed hesitant to say, but when Carlos' hand (I noticed this with disapproval) slid around her waist, she seemed to open up some. "All kinds, but I prefer close combat weapons."

"Meaning?"

Carlos gave her a little nudge and she continued. "I like to use swords."

I narrowed my eyes at her, disdain creeping through me. "I _got_ that, I was actually asking _why_ you would specialize in something so unpractical. Who did you train with?"

At this, Victoria's lips remained sealed shut. Carlos looked at her, then at me, and back at her. Nicholai, sensing the same level of unease as I, let his hand subconsciously drift towards the gun holstered on his hip. "Jill, if you could attempt to be open-minded, please?"

_Fuck_ that. "Yeah, sure."

"Victoria was a tutor of sword fighting - fencing - for the US Secret Service."

Nicholai let out a low hiss at this, and my reaction wasn't much better. "You mean to say," I accused (a little loudly, true), "that she worked in training assassins? How many innocent people did you murder before the world ended, Victoria?"

At this, she pulled away from Carlos, attempting to strike at me in anger, but Carlos caught her around the waist. Nicholai swiftly stood in front of me, more in attempt to shield the girl from me than protect me from her. It was a little prejudiced - okay, _a lot_ prejudiced - of me to be so angry at her background when technically both Carlos and Nicholai worked for Umbrella; the corporation that fucked us all over. However, it was widely known that the US Secret Service had been systematically involved in the killing of US Citizens who actively engaged in protests against our failing government at the time. The scandal had been revealed shortly before the T-Virus destroyed the entire continent.

"I didn't know what they were using their skills for, you bitch! I wasn't involved in anything other than training them!"

_That bitch just called me a bitch._ The moment this thought sunk in, I lashed out. Only to feel a strong arm wrap around my rib cage and pull me against a firm body. _Damn it, Nicholai._ I imagined it would have seemed almost comical to anyone watching - two women fighting to get to each other, shouting insults and held back by two ex-Umbrella operatives.

Funny to others, but I was simply pissed. "Oh, so you expect me to believe that a sweet, innocent looking thing like you hasn't picked up any tricks of the trade? Haven't got that itching urge to off anyone, you unscrupulous little whore?"

"Jill, shut up," warned both Carlos and Nicholai simultaneously. I struggled more fiercely against the iron grasp I was held in. Across from me, Victoria was enduring much of the same. She looked furious, which gave me a semblance of satisfaction.

Victoria's hands found Carlos's, locked around her waist, and attempted to tear them apart as she responded. Her eyes were lit with anger, her long hair threatening to come loose. "I had to be trained in arm to arm combat and other weaponry. It was simply the nature of my job. But I never," she fought with increased voracity, "_never_ killed anyone. Not before people started walking around already dead, that is. _Don't_ attempt to presume you know me. I _hated_ that what I'd done had been used in such a way. I had to live with that. _You_ didn't. So _back off_!"

The sincerity of her words shocked me enormously, to the point where I ceased to struggle against Nicholai's grasp. The fight seemed to leave Victoria in a single breath, too. Nicholai released me, once again taking a firm position in front of me. A single tear rolled down Tori's cheek before she swept it angrily away, refusing to meet my gaze. Carlos' grip lessened and she glanced at Nicholai and I once before storming off. Carlos watched her leave, entering the vehicle twenty meters away and slamming the door shut.

"That could have gone better," Nicholai joked listlessly. His gaze fell to two men on our left, barely fifteen meters from our small congregation, who were striding towards us. Carlos followed his line of sight, and frowned, realizing the pair had probably overheard the commotion.

"Jared, Chase." He gestured to the two men as the reached our side. "Jill, Nicholai. They're survivors from Raccoon City that LJ and I used to know," Carlos explained. The two men nodded, offering small smiles and re holstering their weapons.

"Vicky going to be okay?" The taller one - Chase - asked tentatively.

Carlos nodded swiftly in response, although the look in his eyes contended this. "Could you show Nicholai around the camp? He can show Jill around later, I need to talk to her."

The pair seemed more than happy to oblige, and Nicholai went off with them with no more than a single, uncertain fleeting glance at Carlos and I. Then we were alone and I forced myself to turn to look at him.

"That was unnecessary," he informed me - referring, of course, to my treatment of Victoria. I merely shrugged in response, which caused him to frown. "Jill, Nicholai and I worked for Umbrella and you accepted us easily enough."

"Umbrella wasn't responsible for the death of my family," I said through gritted teeth. Carlos seemed to blanch for a moment, but quickly composed himself.

"Look, Jill, I'm sorry for whatever happened to you at the hands of the US Secret Service, but this world is falling apart and we don't need any more animosity between survivors just because of their background."

"Whatever."

"So you'll be nice?"

"I'll attempt to be," I conceded unhappily. "Is that all you wanted to talk to me about?" I could see that there was something on the tip of his tongue that he was refraining from asking.

"Have you... Did you ever hear from Alice? See her? After..."

It was strange to see Carlos so at a loss for words. Then, Alice always had had that affect on him.

"No. Not since she left."

Carlos nodded swiftly, seemingly unperturbed, but I caught the glance of something - sadness? Despair? Anger? - in his eyes. It took me months of Carlos being one of my closest friends to even notice when his eyes betrayed any emotion, and I still couldn't read exactly what it was. He deftly threw on a smile. A lie.

"What happened between you and Nicholai?"

Okay. _That_ was not a statement (or an inflection, based on the suggestive tone of his voice) that I ever expected to come from him. I also didn't really understand the reason for his asking it.

"What do you mean, Carlos?"

A grin passed like a shadow over his face in the darkness. "I've never seen him so uptight and relaxed at the same time. I assumed that maybe you two had..." He trailed off suggestively.

"Me? With Nicholai? Seriously?"

"So that's a no, then? And he doesn't have feelings for you?"

"He doesn't."_ That has got to be the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. Why would Nicholai have feelings for me? We've been alone together for months and I've never noticed anything._

"Have you asked him?"

_No._ I could do nothing but stare at Carlos, disbelieving.

* * *

_I was having nightmares._

_It seemed like the most ridiculous thing to be experiencing, in light of all that was going on. Alice had _died_. Carlos had broken. Angela was attempting to hold everything together because LJ didn't do well with emotions and Nicholai seemed to always be out, scouting for supplies, for news, for _anything_. And here was me, afraid to fall asleep because all I could see was the faces of my family staring blankly at me above their mangled, eaten bodies. Because the real horrors I could deal with, but the terror in my mind was too much. I wasn't there to be the adult when Angie needed me. I was weak._

_I hated it._

_Tonight, though, I'd been foolish enough to think that everything was going to be okay._

_I shared a room with Angela, sleeping together in the only double bed. LJ and Nicholai shared another, taking the bunks. If Carlos slept at all, it was on the couch. Carlos would never speak to anyone - save except for Angie. He just poured over maps of Raccoon City, the evidence tapes, plans of Umbrella facilities, and pictures. Endless pictures. I found one, once, clutched in his hand as he attempted to grasp sleep for an hour or two the first time since Alice's death. It was a picture of her - a wedding photo. She was smiling._

_Carlos was out this time. He was looking for anything that would help us break into one of the Umbrella facilities and find out what they were planning next. Angie was already asleep. She had collapsed on the couch, clutching Carlo's pillow into her chest. She _adored_ Carlos. Ever since her dad died, Carlos and I were the only ones she ever spoke to. LJ was keeping watch outside. Nicholai was out like a light in the room next to my own._

_I slipped into the huge double bed that Angie and I shared, convinced that my nightmares had been chased away by Angela's soft words. '_You are my family, now._' Angela, Nicholai, LJ and Carlos were supposed to skirt the dreams away._

_Instead, I dreamt of my Angela, my LJ, my Carlos, my Nicholai pursued and shot to death over and over and _over_ again by Umbrella operatives. Only to rise again and stare at me with blank, haunted eyes._

_I woke screaming. The sheets around me were in disarray. I surged upwards, sitting, and hands clutched my shoulders. My screams only intensified as I fought my nightmares away, striking out at whatever was holding me. The hands grabbed my own, pushing them to my side, and pushing me back down. I bucked in response, kicking, determined to fight for my life and the lives of my makeshift family. One arm remained against my chest, locking my hands to my sides. The other gripped my legs, holding them firmly against my attacker's body. The monster lowered it's head to mine._

_"Shh," it urged in my ear. The deep, Russian accent threw me. "You'll wake the girl."_

Nicholai. Nicholai's alive.

_In an act encouraged entirely by my bruised state of mind and totally uncharacteristic of my nature, I pulled free of his grasp to wrap my arms around his broad shoulders and pull him into me in a fierce, grateful hug. The sudden action surprised him and sent him teetering off balance and he collapsed onto the bed - or, more correctly, on top of me._

_Nicholai, being a trained army-like fighter, is _made_ of muscle. And, correspondingly, weighs a ridiculous amount. His weight on top of me was almost crushing, until his arms found the mattress on either side of me and he pressed upwards with his arms to alleviate his weight before rolling off swiftly and collapsing next to me with a chuckle._

_"Sorry," he laughed at the same time as I muttered "my bad." His left hand found mine while he slid his right beneath his head, staring at the ceiling. The warmth of his palm against mine was strangely comforting and I closed my eyes, twisting my body so that I was facing the heat that radiated from his. Images of Nicholai falling under gunfire flashed before my closed eyelids, and the horror came soaring back._

_"Are you okay?" He asked softly from beside me. "I heard Angie telling Carlos you've been having nightmares."_

_"Yes."_

_"You want to talk about it?"_

_"No."_

_"Jill..."_

_"Nicholai..." I mimicked, mocking him. I felt his smile wash through me, even with my eyes closed. The presence of him beside me had me so innately relaxed. The laughter died in my throat and I peeled my eyelids open to see him gazing at me._

_"Will you be okay?"_

_"Yes," I whispered softly. He began to get up, his hand sliding from my own, but I tightened my grasp and gently pulled him back down to the bed. "Nicholai?"_

_"Yes?" He asked. His stance had gone rigid, suddenly uncomfortable with our closeness._

_"Do you think you could stay? Keep my nightmares away..."_

_Wordlessly, he slipped beneath the sheets and pulled my form into his own, wrapping his spare arm around my shoulders. His embrace was warm and comforting, and, in my state, I did not realize that the situation would be taken as anything other than it was - a friend offering comfort and support to another friend._

_So I buried my face in chest and fell into a dreamless sleep._

* * *

Carlos' words followed me like a plague as I searched among the convoy for Nicholai. Could it be possible that I had missed out on some crucial signals? Had I misinterpreted all those nights we'd shared with hushed conversations, secrets, smiles? Was the only reason I had ever even _once_ managed to beat Nicholai in a fight because he'd _let_ me? Because he didn't want to hurt me? Because he'd held back?

I shook my head. _Impossible._ If Nicholai had... well, he would have said something by now. In the long months we'd spent running together, he would have come clean with me.

Wouldn't he?

I had no choice but to put it from my mind when one of the men who had greeted us after the Victoria fiasco approached me - Chase - with a smile and offered to show me around. Clearly, I needed it, because I was at a complete loss as to where to even _begin_ in this place. I never expected to see such a large convey. There must have been upwards of thirty people here, some eating a late dinner of canned foods in the back of trucks, others pitching tents as there was clearly not enough room to sleep. Small fires littered the campsite. On a distant dune, two dark figures stood watch.

"That's Mikey," Chase pointed to a young-looking man oragnising a stack of cans and other non-perishables. "Inventory. He's a real nice bloke. And down there by the fire, that's LJ and Betty; Betty's our nurse. She took up with LJ a little while ago..." He trailed off when he saw my face. Then; "you okay?"

"Yeah," I murmured, my eyes still glued to LJ's smiling face as he looked at his Betty. I decided against interrupting him. "Yeah, I just - I already know LJ."

"Right! 'Course you do, he was in Raccoon with you all."

I affirmed the truth of his statement and we continued walking.

"So, Carlos said you're a cop," Chase noted conversationally.

"_Was_ a cop," I corrected.

"_Was_ a cop. Got it."

We were silent for a few minutes as he lead me through a wandering trail that looped through the campsite. He nodded towards a bus that stood idle on one side of us. "That's Otto's. The kids usually ride in the bus with a couple'a adults. Claire's real protective of the kids, guess she feels kinda shitty that they have to grow up in this pisshole of a world."

"Claire?"

He nodded, still moving in his relentless pace forwards to a large truck - much like Nicholai and my own - with a large tent outside it. "Yeah, Claire Redfield. She's our leader. Mikey's got a bit of a thing for her, but you didn't hear it from me."

Redfield... that name again! I couldn't place it. So instead, I went for the next obvious problem. "Why didn't Carlos take lead?"

Chase shrugged. "Beats me. Guy was offered, but he turned it down. He was real dark back then. Serious. Guess everyone is, in their way. He and your husband close friends?"

_"Husband?_"

"Yeah. Nicholai."

Oh. My. God. How could something like this be so obvious to everyone else and not to me? "He's not my husband. We're just friends."

Chase's eyebrows arched spectacularly. "Okay..."

A tense, still silence followed. I glanced over at the tent next to it, but the lamp inside had been blown out and it was in darkness.

Chase cleared his throat. "Guess Claire's out for the night. You'll have to meet her tomorrow. Come, I'll take you back to your hus-Nicholai."

Nicholai, it seemed, had moved the truck while I'd had my tour, and was now situated a little way back from the bus. I parted from Chase with a swift goodnight, then ducked into the back of the truck.

The truck windows allowed light from the camp outside to seep in, so I could make out Nicholai's large form collapsed on the mattress that took up almost the entirety of the back of the truck. His chest rose and fell with his light breathing; I knew he slept.

I fought back the smile that threatened to creep across my face. Nicholai looked so... unkempt. His hair was a mess, his form spread out lazily on the mattress. He was truly relaxed for the first time since we'd been split from Carlos and LJ. But there still remained the problem that he had trained himself to wake at the slightest disturbance, so crawling in next to him probably send him careening upwards and searching for his gun.

Ah well.

I fell to my knees and crawled across the mattress slowly until I was able to lay my head at the same height as Nicholai's. But just as I did so, he, as predicted, woke furiously, only to look down at me and rub his hand across his eyes with a light smile.

His weight sunk back down next to mine and he reached over me to spread the warmth of the covers across my shoulders. He rolled onto his back, and we lay in silence.

_He doesn't have feelings for you?_

Carlos. Fucking arse. This was going to plague me, I knew it.

"Hey, Nicholai?"

"Yes?"

I contemplated the comfort I held, knowing he was beside me, and would be so the whole night. Did I really need to ruin that?

No.

I rolled onto my side, my back to the ex-agent.

"Nevermind."

* * *

**A/N:** I hate school. Which you may have realized already. But, on the bright side, I've been offered a scholarship and a place in Pre-Med. So I guess I must be smarter than I thought. Wishing myself luck for the leftover eight exams I have between now and next friday. Yay. Not.

On a happier note, RE:5 will be starring Oded Fehr. Totally kid you not. I'm very excited. Also, I have been loving Inception this whole year and recently gotten into reading the Fanfics for it. So, if you like it too, be on the lookout for some future pieces from me! They will be a series of (rather long) one-shots. Tre cool. (An Arthur/Ariadne pairing because I damn well will marry JGL.)

One more thing; I sincerely apologize for the shitty OOC-ness of Jill. Of all my characters, actually. I feel like I'm not doing them justice. Well done for putting up with me.


End file.
